


Personal Effects

by Inkblot0Blue



Series: a first touch to give room to breathe [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!, Psycho-Pass
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, DaiSuga Week 2020, F/F, Forbidden Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26594362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkblot0Blue/pseuds/Inkblot0Blue
Summary: A scream. Splatter. “Your crime coefficient’s gone up.”Crime// Reeling from recent traumatic events, Inspector Sawamura finds himself assigned to mental care with a young psychologist he’s never met before."Temporary measures of course, nothing to worry about."
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Shimizu Kiyoko/Yachi Hitoka
Series: a first touch to give room to breathe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933276
Comments: 14
Kudos: 13
Collections: DaiSugaWeek2020





	Personal Effects

**Author's Note:**

  * For [protectginozasquad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/protectginozasquad/gifts).



> Written for Daisuga Week Day 3: Crime. 
> 
> Inspired by and dedicated to protectginozasquad and their HQ/Psycho Pass AUs - best of both worlds! Love a good bit of angst! 
> 
> And you don’t need to have watched Psycho-Pass to follow this story, so enjoy!

The first time Daichi has a Dominator pulled on him, it’s from someone he least expects.

Kuroo stands over him, a green glow illuminating his face in the dark warehouse. How they’d gone from investigating a tip-off to this, Daichi has absolutely no idea.

But...

“Things have a funny way of turning out, don’t they?” Kuroo says. There’s no customary lightness in his voice. No inflection. 

Daichi tries to keep his breathing level and steady, meeting Kuroo’s gaze. But there’s nothing there. Only a thin line for a mouth.

_Crime Coefficient is 65. Individual is an Inspector with the MWPSB. Not a target for elimination._

“How does it feel...to know there’s absolutely nothing you can do?” Kuroo says thickly. There’s a coldness to his eyes, and he’s not looking at Daichi.

_Any unauthorised conduct will be recorded and sanctioned._

The Dominator falls, and Daichi lunges forward, fingers scrabbling for it. He half-expects Kuroo to kick it away, to sneer, to turn this into some really bad joke but—

_Target is Enforcer Kuroo Tetsurou. Crime Coefficient is 235._

Daichi’s stomach drops.

“ _How_?” he yells, throwing caution to the stale air. Occupational hazard be damned, these numbers were all wrong. Far too high. “Explain!”

Kuroo had been getting better. Had been due for reassignment. Had been ready to taste freedom.

The man before him just carries on. “And to think, that you’ve got your finger on the trigger, that you’ll administer judgement on me.”

“ _Fuck’s sake_ , Kuroo, you know I won’t! Just talk to me!”

“I never thought that you could be a _killer…_ ”

“I’m not!” His heart’s pounding. God he feels sick. 

_Crime Coefficient updated - Enforcement mode: Lethal Eliminator._

“No, no, no! Shit! Fuck!”

Why couldn’t his Hue be cloudy? Why couldn’t Sibyl just not authorise him to shoot? Why—

_Please aim carefully and eliminate the target._

A sad smile; Kuroo’s looking at him. Kuroo’s _crying_. 

“A state-sanctioned killer, who could keep his _Hue_ so _clear_ —”

Daichi can’t bear to listen anymore. Instead, he screws his eyes shut as he goes through the motions, muscle memory serving as his pilot.

The deafening shot ricochets off the steel beams.

A scream.

Splatter. 

When Daichi opens his eyes again, all he sees is a pair of combat boots and…

Blood. A lot of it, swirling down the gutter into the underworld.

Daichi crumples, head slamming against the concrete.

Oh, it _burns_.

His leg is screaming in agony, pinned against one of the beams when Kuroo had given chase only moments ago. 

Now Kuroo is more puddle than person, pink bubbles streaming down into the drains. 

Daichi does still manage to press his wristcom, still manages to work the screen to call Yachi, still manages to say something coherent. 

Still manages to keep his Hue clear.

* * *

He gets a couple of weeks off. He’s lucky the damage to his leg wasn’t severe enough to require a cast, Tsukishima tells him; only immediate medical attention with anti-inflammatory and Hue pills to keep him in check. 

Yachi and Shimizu visit him; he’s not oblivious to the way they sit so close to each other on his sofa, Shimizu’s hand steady on her back. 

“What now?” he asks the concrete wall glumly. 

Yachi breathes in, and just smiles that sweet, pure smile. “Now we just...carry on.”

* * *

He couldn’t keep his Hue clear.

“Your crime coefficient’s gone up,” Chief Nekomata says offhandedly one grey afternoon, Sibyl glowing electric blue behind him. “I’ve cut your caseload and recommended you for mental care.” 

Daichi doesn’t say anything, keeps his gaze on the middle distance; there’s a helicopter whizzing around. He can’t quite tell if it’s one of theirs or part of the foreign ministry’s special division.

“You start tomorrow. There’s spare living quarters under the tower too.”

_Spare living quarters._

“Temporary measures of course.” Nekomata’s cat-like eyes fixate on him, a slight leering smile on his leathery face. “Nothing to worry about.”

* * *

So Daichi finds himself on the thirtieth floor, all glass dividers and too-white, too-bright screens. He’d come here once before, when Bokuto had insisted on doing _that_ mental scoop. Daichi wonders where he’s gone.

The office he’s in doesn’t offer much by way of privacy — though when is there ever any privacy under Sibyl’s oppressive gaze — given he can see right into the foyer, into the other consultation rooms.

Still, there’s the smart glass technology, and Daichi’s grateful that the young man — he looks young, at least, only just qualified — sets the walls to opaque as soon as he enters. There’s still the window though, cold and clear as the sky outside. He hears the distant hum of sirens; Sibyl's birdsong.

“Sugawara Koushi,” he introduces himself. “I’ll be your mental care assistant. It’s good to have you here, Inspector Sawamura.”

“Please, Daichi is fine.”

“In that case, Daichi, if we could take your readings first…”

He sets himself down on the leather chair. Behind him, the monitor blinks into life.

“May I?” 

Daichi nods, inhaling sharply as Sugawara’s cool fingertips press down on his wrist.

“Eighty-nine. Steel Blue.”

Daichi’s shoulders tense; he wasn’t expecting it to be so... _high_.

“Do you have someone you can talk to?” Sugawara asks, pulling him out of his reverie. “Family? A partner?”

“My family is not an option,” — Crime coefficients are hereditary. Contagious. That much Daichi knows — “and I don’t have a partner.”

“Right, okay,” Sugawara says. “Then...tell me about _him_.”

Daichi looks away. “What is there to tell? Kuroo was my… investigative partner.”

“He was an enforcer.”

“...He was a valuable asset to Division One, and—”

“And this wasn’t another simple case of administering justice, was it?” Sugawara interrupts, pointing at Daichi’s leg.

He nurses his calf, rubbing it in circles. “Is it ever simple?”

Sugawara shrugs. “You do know that relationships between inspectors and enforcers are illegal, right?”

It’s raining outside now. 

“I know. I didn’t imply anything of the sort.”

Daichi tunes out the rest of the questions; Kuroo’s background, the last big case they worked, former colleagues...

* * *

Despite the order, Nekomata swiftly sets him to work on an illegal alien case. Possible international trafficking, he had briefed. They — though hardly much of a Division anymore — find themselves on an abolition site, with Akaashi and Iwaizumi from Division Three providing backup. 

“How’s your lot holding up?” Iwaizumi asks as they move from concrete block to block, Dominators at the ready. 

Daichi offers a weak smile. “...We’ll be fine.”

His voice wavers, and his grip is unsteady on the Dominator, but they don’t comment on it. They find a group of illegal SEAUn immigrants — probably deserted insurgents — three days later, with some Tibet-Himalayan refugees in tow.

He sees Sugawara later in the week, in the same too-bright, too-white room. Though this time there’s the smell of freshly ground coffee beans — a luxury item —rising from the percolator, masking the hospital-like sterility. It reminds Daichi too much of Ukai, shrouded in his lab coat and cigarette smoke, and that frantic exchange of theories in those wee caffeinated hours, with the Shiratorizawa squad riots on their doorstep. 

Daichi swallows; the last time he saw him was just before Hinata’s disappearance. 

“How’s your week been?” 

“New cases. Nothing too difficult. I guess it’s mostly to keep me fit and busy, seeing as Chief Nekomata says he doesn’t want to disband the division.”

“Hm. When are the new enforcers due?”

“The earliest, two weeks. We’ve a shortage.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Then why do you ask?”

“To check in with you.”

“No. You check in with the cymatic scanners when I walk in every day.”

Sugawara purses his lips. “...How are your wounds healing?”

Daichi touches his face. “Fine, I think.” 

“May I?” 

He nods, and feels Sugawara’s fingers brush against his skin.

“They look okay. Just superficial,” he says quietly, looking at the monitor. “And your leg?”

“It’ll heal.”

“Right. Is there...anything you wished to discuss?”

“Not particularly.”

A sigh. “Well, have you thought at all about why your partner’s coefficient would...increase, despite his progress?”

Daichi looks away. “I don’t know.”

It’s an obvious lie, he knows. But what more can he do? Rip open the already-gaping wounds?

“...What about your family?” Sugawara prompts some moments later.

Daichi doesn’t answer.

* * *

The Area Stress Levels come and go. He does eventually venture out one night when he can’t sleep, to Kuroo’s old living quarters.

Everything’s the same. Translated copies of _Nineteen Eighty-Four_ and _Heart of Darkness_ — thin paperbacks with cheap, yellowed paper — sit on the coffee table, beside rusty dumbbells and unwashed coffee cups. Personal effects. 

Daichi takes a seat on the worn sofa. How many nights had he spent here, breaking every rule in the book, with that bulletin board looming over them? It’s been taken down, he notes, probably with Nekomata somewhere he won’t be able to locate. 

Kuroo had been getting better. Had been due for reassignment. Had been ready to taste freedom.

But, Daichi thinks as he shifts to lay down on the sofa...just how much of that had been true?

The riots. Hinata and Bokuto’s disappearances. Kenma’s murder two years ago. A rapidly deteriorating Psycho-Pass...

The stresses of the job, which would have culminated in—

Daichi curls up. A shaky breath, a gulp. 

_You blackened his Hue._

* * *

October comes, and with it the stench of death. Not to mention that bone-cold chill, seizing him as he limps past the holographic cordon to the apartment building. Double murder-suicide, Shimizu tells him, sharing the photos on their wristcoms. The forensic drones scuttle about the living room; Hinata had always said he loved how they resembled little metal bugs.

They close the case in a matter of days. Another one comes along; religious fanatics protesting the new governor’s appointment. Big problem for Sibyl, had their crime coefficients not all come up clean in the thirties and forties. Daichi wonders whether there’s any point to their actions at all.

“You don’t think people should be allowed to have free speech?” Sugawara prompts at their fifth session.

“It’s a flimsy excuse for free speech. Just designed to placate the masses of sheep; Bentham’s principle of greater happiness for a greater number, right?”

“But you cannot deny it’s a happier society, Daichi.”

“Happier? _Everyone_ around me’s _fucking miserable_! _I’m_ fucking miserable.”

“But we have controls for that.”

“What, so I can just stop feeling miserable whenever I want? Some excuse of a therapist you are.”

“We are happier because we are freer.” Sugawara says, keeping calm. “The decisions that used to plague our daily lives are now made by Sibyl, or with Sibyl's blessing.”

“Those decisions made us individual.”

“But that’s not what we want, is it?” Sugawara counters. “Individuals doubt themselves. Doubt each other.”

“Doubt was the basis for maintaining order.”

“Yes, but now we live in a society where we don’t need to doubt and be cautious; Sibyl has eliminated that for us. It’s made us more productive and creative. It’s allowed us to prosper.”

“What about artistic creativity? The arts are a subjective medium.” Daichi counters.

“Well, Sibyl is still deliberating that. For now, people are free to create suitable art.”

“Suitable?” Daichi echoes. 

Sugawara doesn’t elaborate, so Daichi drops the matter, changing tack. 

“Sibyl still relies on human nature. It is still administered by humans, for humans. We maintain the system. The drones are also maintained by us. We drive the system, we enable it to work the way it does.”

He leans forward, meeting Sugawara’s eyes, spotting that little mole. “We still have to make judgments ourselves, from...risk assessments to _shooting to kill_ one’s own _partner_.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you, Inspec— _Daichi_. But you’re missing the point; these are Sibyl’s recommended decisions and judgements for you to make.” 

“...It’s almost as if Sibyl has entirely removed our critical thinking skills along with everything else we hold near and dear,” he mutters, squeezing his leg.

“You’re just a mouthpiece,” Daichi spits out.

“That’s your interpretation, Inspector. But I’m not a mouthpiece; I’m a guide. I am here to help improve you. So it’s important we have these discussions to clear up any...of these doubts you have.” 

“How am I _not_ supposed to doubt a system which failed to protect me against the threat closest to me?”

“Well…threats do not always materialise immediately. Someone like Kuroo Tetsuroo would only have survived so long.” 

“But his Psycho-Pass was verified! It was staying right down in the hundreds. Forest green. He kept his Hue so clear. So clear, right until—”

“Right up until you worked with him?” Sugawara prompts, leaning forward with a frown. “I would advise, _Inspector_ , that you think about that some more.”

_You blackened his Hue._

* * *

“We’re starting to export Sibyl,” Yachi comments one lunchtime, in one of the poorer, neon-infested nightlife districts on the outskirts. The new Enforcers — Yaku and Koganegawa — are settling in as best they can. 

“I thought we already had.”

Yachi shakes her head. “Not quite; Shambala Float was just an experiment. There’s talk it’ll be implemented in the rest of the union.”

“...What’re your thoughts on that?”

Yachi smiles. “Oh, you know me, I’ll just wait and see how it pans out.”

Oh, how Daichi envies her. Her resilience. Her pragmatism. Her steadfast belief and overall faith in the system, in its capacity for good. 

He’s never had that. 

He doesn’t think he ever will.

* * *

“I...apologise for the way our last session turned out.”

It’s November now, and the snow is falling. Seeing his frown, Sugawara elaborates. “I know it’s my job to ask these questions to get you back on the right track. But…”

Sugawara sighs. “To...put you on the spot like that, to imply that you were essentially one to manipulate crime coefficients, I jeopardised your chances at recovery.”

A pause. Daichi doesn’t say anything, just looks outside; he wonders if there are people out there with pure white Hues.

“And unfortunately…it’s increased.”

His stomach drops.

“Increased?” Daichi repeats.

“...I’m sorry.”

“It’s not all that surprising really,” Daichi says quietly. “I’m clearly unfit for my current position, I can’t do my duty properly.”

He inhales sharply. “Besides, I have a colleague who still believes wholeheartedly in Sibyl. In its capacity for change and growth. Despite everything. And...she’ll go far with that.”

A beat.

“I won't.”

“Well, societies and technologies are constantly evolving and adapting.” Sugawara says. “We forget that working under the Sibyl system hasn’t always been smooth sailing.”

He shifts in his seat. “And like Sibyl, we all have the capacity for change.”

“Change for the better or…” 

Daichi trails off, catching Sugawara’s pensive gaze. Their eyes meet, and Sugawara just moves closer to him, so close that Daichi can smell the aftershave on him. Another luxury. 

“You’ve changed me, Daichi.”

The kiss is brief. Chaste. But Daichi doesn’t protest. It’s all he’s ever wanted. Warmth. Warmth, instead of Sibyl’s cold grasp on him. He tilts his head, and Sugawara lets him deepen the kiss.

Thank fuck for those opacity settings. 

Daichi pulls away first, and he feels the corners of his mouth tug up. 

“Huh, what’s happened to all that talk about illegal relationships?”

Sugawara just presses a finger to his lips. “We can’t help it.”

“Exactly. Just like we can’t help our numbers.”

Sugawara says nothing to that.

“Do you...want to come back to mine?”

Sugawara shakes his head. “Not tonight.”

* * *

The night never comes.

..

...

  
  


The last time Daichi has a Dominator pulled on him, it’s from someone he least expects.


End file.
